Away
by aptasi
Summary: Songfic to Nightwish's "away". Based on a challenge by mmadness4ever. MMAD, to a degree, although the story often focuses elsewhere. This is angst.


**Summary: **Songfic to Nightwish's "away". Based on a challenge by**mmadness4ever. **MMAD, to a degree, although the story often focuses elsewhere. This is angst.

**Disclaimer: **I have no rights to Harry Potter or "away" by Nightwish. This story is written merely for recreational purposes and no copyright infringement is intended. In addition, parts of this are somewhat cliché. Ye be warned

**Away**

Minerva McGonagall was a young witch. True, thirty-five would not have been considered quite so fresh, quite so inexperienced, in the Muggle world. Still, it could not be helped that Minerva McGonagall was young.

With youth, of course, came a host of inherent problems. For one, she found herself, perhaps ignorantly, infatuated with a mentor figure. It was a common enough problem for witches her age and would have disappeared eventually, like a rabbit in a muggle magic trick, had it not been for the rest.

_The days were brighter,  
Gardens more blooming.  
The nights had more hope,  
In their silence. The wild was calling.  
Wishes were whispering.  
The time was there,  
But without a meaning_

No, the true problem was that Minerva McGonagall remained completely naïve. Her life, though an object of her own personal revulsion, had been safe, perfect, charmed even. Born to an ancient Scottish wizarding family, Minerva had been raised to know how her life would proceed. All had evolved according to plan. The time at school, a moderate stint at the ministry, auror training, now teaching, everything exactly as imagined. Everything was on schedule in 1960.

It was her naïveté, her innocence, which was so dangerous to her. Like all naïve children, Minerva McGonagall believed in greater good, in absolute right, and in her ability to improve the world. Besides, she was restless.

Therefore, when Albus had stood up during a staff meeting and given a message from the head auror, she had listened raptly. A sting was to be held, over Christmas break, against a new dark witch. The woman was as of yet unknown, yet she had gathered followers and been discovered as the perpetrator of several vicious murders. The ministry was moving to strike and needed every available wand. Albus would be going. Minerva immediately volunteered herself as well. She would take any chance to get away from her life for a while.

_Away, away in time,  
Every dream's a journey away.  
Away to a home, away from care,  
Everywhere's just a journey away._

"Professor?" The boy asked her hesitantly. Minerva raised her head from her correcting and looked at the seventh year student in front of her.

"Yes, what is it?" She replied.

Fidgeting with his green edged robes, the boy muttered. "I was just wondering… I wanted to know whether…. That is to say…." He seemed to lose his courage and finally said, "Do you want the citations for the Christmas essay in WIZ form or Dublin style?"

Minerva glanced at the child in front of her. Often, she found it hard to believe he was a Slytherin. He worked hard and studied as diligently as a Ravenclaw, while showing the openness and respect she had grown used to seeing in Hufflepuffs. He even reminded her of her Gryffindor students. Small wonder, then, that he had never gotten along with his Slytherin compatriots. Minerva noticed, for the first time, the black strip above his lips where he was trying to grow a mustache, perhaps in an attempt to look tough and stop his so-called friends from bullying him.

"Dublin, as always," She answered him. Minerva McGonagall did not have favorite students. She certainly did not have favorite Slytherins. If she ever did choose a favorite Slytherin, though, Walden would come close. As he turned to go, she spoke to stop him.

"Wait a moment." She called, "What did you really want to ask?"

He broke in and said all in one quick breath, "Do you think that our house shows who we are? Or our family? How do you know what your fate is, who you're going to be?"

Minerva's answer was idealistic at best, but heartfelt. "First of all, I don't believe in fate. And I think our actions determine who we are."

He looked at her for a moment, before answering sincerely, "thanks, professor."

Minerva smiled, "You're welcome, Mr. Macnair. Enjoy your vacation. We all need to get away every now and then."

_The days departed,  
Gardens deserted,  
This frail world,  
My only rest?  
The wild calls no more.  
Wishes so hollow,  
The Barefoot Boy,  
weeping in an empty night._

"Everyone know your positions?" Moody asked, looking through his two good eyes. Minerva, Albus, and the others nodded. Minerva's face was solemn but her heart was racing. Finally, she would make a difference; do some good in the world! At the same time, she was frantically nervous. She had seen pictures of this woman's victims, gruesome, horrible deaths.

"Wands at the ready, then." Moody whispered. "Minerva, Albus, and I go straight for Delilah Macnair. The rest of you, look alive, she's got a teenage son back from holiday, and we don't know how he's going to react."

"Macnair?" Minerva gasped, but she had no time to react.

"Now!" Moody shouted and they all burst into the room.

Delilah Macnair was armed and ready. As soon as Minerva, Albus, and Moody burst into the room, they found themselves looking straight at the tip of her wand.

Minerva's chest ached as she looked forward. Delilah was so close that none of them could take another step without running her over. She had completely blocked the door. The others were running around the outside, looking for another entrance. Minerva's strategic mind took in every nuance of the room, but her soul understood none of it.

"Delilah Macnair," She vaguely registered Moody's voice, "You are under arrest for murder, assault, and treason. Surrender your wand."

Delilah didn't drop the wand, "You have a warrant?" She asked coldly.

"Yes," Moody answered, lowering his wand and reaching into his pocket.

With Moody's attention elsewhere, Delilah's eyes took a wild turn, and she pointed her wand at Albus, "Avada Keda…."

Minerva panicked. Whatever she expected, it wasn't this. In her semi-aware state, reflex took over. She grabbed Delilah's wrist and pulled at the wand, redirecting it back toward its owner.

"Vra!" Delilah finished the curse and fell forward onto Minerva, pushing her to the floor, stone cold dead.

"Mother!" She heard Walden Macnair scream. He ran toward them, only to be stopped by the other two Aurors on the mission. His eyes fell on Minerva "You killed her!" His voice became louder, hysterical "Why!"

Minerva awkwardly pushed the dead woman off her and stood stammering. "She was firing the killing curse… I…" She felt tears coming to her eyes, "I tried to…."

"Murderer!" Walden screamed. "I trusted you!" Horrified, he backed away and ran.

"Liza," Moody ordered, "Please intercept him."

"No," Minerva answered, "He had nothing to do with this. I know…" She dissolved into wracking sobs.

"With due respect, Minerva, I do not agree," Moody answered, "Now, Liza, before he gets away."

_Away, away in time,  
Every dream's a journey away.  
Away to a home, away from care,  
Everywhere's just a journey away._

Minerva could never leave after that. She could never run away, looking for adventure. She could never naively believe war to be glorious. She could only teach, forever, in some useless attempt at penance. She needed to absolve herself of Delilah and Walden Macnair, but she knew she never could.

Throughout it all, Albus was there. He had courted her, loved her, and married her. He had tried, in his own way, to comfort her, tried to tell her about Grindelwald, tried to share his story. However, he could never have her heart, she knew. Murderers didn't have hearts, nor did traitors possess souls. Walden Macnair had come to her for help, and she had responded by destroying his mother. She knew she was unforgivable.

Her only hope, her only redemption, could be never allowing it to happen again. She would never let anyone hurt her students. She would stop them, every time. If there were any justice in the world, that night, she would have been able to stop herself. There was no way out.

_Cherish the moment.  
Tower the skies.  
Don't let the dreamer  
fade to grey like grass.  
No falling for life,  
A gain for every loss,  
Time gathered me,  
But kept me flying._

The next time she saw Walden Macnair, he had been dressed as an executioner, with his sleeve pulled down, to hide the mark they both knew was there.

That next time she saw Walden Macnair, he had pulled away his hood, looked her in the eye, and, emotionless, spoke, "Hello professor." He brought his hand to his forehead in a macabre salute and sauntered away, leaving her in her pain.

That next time she saw Walden Macnair was her first anniversary.

She returned to her rooms, and fell into her husband's arms, crying desperately.

"I love you Minerva," He whispered, stroking her hair, "I love you with all my heart."

"I would have done better to turn the wand on myself," she wept.

"No Minerva, it would not have been better." Albus answered, "You know it would not have been better."

Her tears were his only answer.

_Away, away in time  
Every dream's a journey away  
Away to a home away from care  
Everywhere's just a journey away_

_Away, away in time  
Every dream's a journey away  
Away to a home away from care  
Everywhere's just a journey away_

**The End**


End file.
